Digimon: Eclipse
by Writer Of Ruin
Summary: A powerful and horrific virus has been released into the Digital atmosphere. If it continues for much longer, the world will suffer a total digital eclipse. Who will step up and wear the mantle of the saviour?
1. Prologue

**Digimon: Eclipse**

**Prologue: As The Sun Bled**

The small log cabin in the middle of the desert was easily the largest building for miles on end. It was also probably the safest. Stepping out into the barren wasteland, the desert and the lack of water was the second biggest issue.

The first was, of course, the hordes of snarling, blood-hungry, crazed monsters. Digital monsters, that is.

In the beginning, the world was at peace. Split into five continents; very simply they were 'North', 'South', 'East', 'West', and 'Central'. For as long as anyone could remember, the world had been ruled by the constantly immobile Yggdrasil. A massive AI core implemented inside a massive, supposedly impenetrably, Chrome Digizoid shell. Without Yggdrasil, it was rumoured that the sun would fall from the sky and obliterate Central, the fragments flying so far that they decimated the other four continents. There would probably just be a nuclear winter, and all growth would stop, due to the link to the Real World being cut off. That link was located in North. The Bifrost Bridge. The only link between the two worlds, data constantly being received and sent. Very few humans had complete and total access to the Digital World, and, they knew that if it was compromised, all hell would break loose.

Everything would break down and they'd be forced into a state of complete collapse. Anarchy would reign supreme in the streets. People would die daily. Before long, the Real World would be in just as bad a state as the Digital World.

Just as powerful as Yggdrasil's defences were, it had no form to move about with. So it created itself thirteen knights. The famed, exalted Royal Knights. Whilst each one was as brave and courageous as possible, before long, friction came from their imperfect attributes. Leading one party was Magnamon; a complete and total believer and supporter of his master. For a while, all the knights were like this; after some time, Gallantmon began to question his master. 'Why?' he asked. 'Why did we have to give up everything to serve him?'

He split away, and along with four others, lead a devastating attack on Yggdrasil. Magnamon and the remainding knights managed to fight the rebellion off, but not before Yggdrasil's casing was penetrated. The rebels fled, and Magnamon's party moved towards Yggdrasil, only to discover that the core had started to have its judgment clouded, and question its orders. Yggdrasil was no longer a machine; it was a tyrant. The ruling AI thought only of tyranny, not taking care to heed the wishes of the inhabitants of the digital realm. It cast out the remaining knights, who in turn split into groups; Magnamon's group, still true to Yggdrasil, but working from the outside, and the Pilgrim Knights, lead by Omnimon, who instead chose to travel and fight on their own, aiming to become stronger so they could one day liberate the corrupted core.

That was twenty human years ago. Since then, Yggdrasil has built himself an army, and the three groups of knights constantly at war. The corrupt AI has already released over sixty viruses into the Digital World, only the most strong-willed of Digimon being able to protect themselves against them. The most significant of these is a virus that triggers an unstoppable rage. Scans from the Pilgrim Knights show over 80% of Digimon Champion level and below have been infected.

This is a turning point in history.

This is Eclipse.


	2. Episode One

**Episode One: And the Worst Friend and Enemy is But Death**

The girl savoured the feeling of the hot steam and heat inside the closed cubicle as the hot water surged through the pipes. It trickled out of the showerhead pathetically at first, but after she twisted the nozzle a little, the hot water flew out, unexpectedly fast, and unexpectedly hot. The girl yelped a little, and fumbled for the slippery temperature dial, it cooled down, and she sighed. From outside, in the small bathroom, there was a shuffle, the turn of a page, and then a few concerned words.

"Aimee? Are you okay?" The voice was a little strange; ever so slightly higher-pitched than the average human voice. As if it had come from something that was like a human, but smaller... the sounds were almost child-like. Aimee sighed and replied, having to shout over the soothing streams of warm water pounding against the shower's plastic floor almost aggressively, before trickling away down the plughole as soon as they hit.

"Y-yeah. Goddamn thing's been playing up all week." Some more shuffling, and the turn of another page. It seemed that was all confirmation the thing outside needed before returning to its leisure time. Aimee heard a sigh and chuckled to herself, before calling out. "Is _Hello! _not exactly your ideal mag, then?"

"It's standard gossip bullcrap. Everything's biased and-" The voice stopped itself. "You know what, there's not much point in explaining further, it's not going to stop you piling them up in this dump."

Aimee put on a mock voice, pretending to be completely and utterly insulted. "Why, Impmon, who wouldn't want to live in here? It's a palace fit for a beautiful princess such as myself." Aimee chuckled and reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous little pool onto her hand. "And sarcasm's usually your strong point." She chuckled a little more, before clasping her hands together audibly, and quickly moving them to her dirty blonde shoulder-length hair, working the shampoo in right to the roots, digging her fingernails in as best she could. She sighed and let the water work its ways on her back. As her mother used to say, 'an early morning shower is the closest we can get to heaven whilst we're stuck on this place.'.

Remembering her mother's prosperous statements, ranging from advice, to proverbs, to even superstitions to do with crossing on stairs, she tried not to think about her too hard. Aimee's father, she was sure, had been the death of that poor woman. Not directly, of course, but he'd pushed her into that downward spiral of alcohol and self-destruction. She brushed the tears lining her eyes away, and called out to Impmon. "H-hit the stereo, would you?"

The thing outside paused, before posing a query, very slowly and carefully. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine, and I'll be out in a sec. I just want some music to take my mind off of it." _It _was the special codeword between the duo for Aimee's mother's funeral, which had only taken place three days back. Aimee had always been extremely close to the woman, even in her last few months, where she was hardly sober. She thought back to one of the last days they spoke, which was when her mother gave her the locket. It was a neat little thing; probably fake, knowing her father's cheap lifestyle, but it was nice to know that the relationship started with some love in the beginning. That was the day that she swore that she'd find her father, who she hadn't seen in twelve years, and she'd make him tell her why he forced her mother down that hopeless path.

The thoughts were finally blasted out of her head when Jack White's voice came out loud and clear over the stereo.

_You got a reaction_

_You got a reaction, didn't you_

_You took a white orchid_

_You took a white orchid, turned it blue_

Aimee smiled and called out to Impmon. "Nice choice there." She ended the quick phrase with a chuckle, savouring the water as much as she could before she decided it was time to finish up. She took the showerhead from the hook, holding it on the enamelled handle, and washing the remainder of the shampoo from her hair, before pushing it back onto the clip. She chuckled, turning the water off, and tapping her foot along to the song.

"Impmon! Towel!" Aimee barked. The steam would warm her for a few seconds, but after that, she'd get very cold, very quickly. Impmon sighed, and picked up a towel, checking it was clean, and flinging it straight in front of the glass door, right on target. He rolled his eyes. "Score..." He mumbled sarcastically.

In one fluid motion, the nineteen year old flung the door open, picked up the towel, and shut the door again. She wrapped it around her, so it concealed everything from below her neck up to her knees, and rubbed the back of her neck, pushing the door open with her palm. She moved out and sighed, placing her hand on her hip, and staring at her red-gloved, spiky-eared partner.

"What?" Impmon met her glance with a quizzical one of his own, his big, green, semi-circular eyes in a devilish slant as always.

Aimee rolled her eyes. They went through this every time. She snapped back, quickly. "What do you mean, 'what'?"

"I mean, why are you glaring at me like that?" Impmon put on an almost genuinely-puzzled face that could've fooled a police interrogator, if he didn't let out a stifled giggle at the end.

Aimee arched one of her eyebrows, and fiddled with the part of the towel where she'd tucked it in, making sure it wasn't prone to drop at any moment. "You know. Go on. Tell me."

Impmon gave up the facade and sighed, before trying to get out a very quick accusal. "Look, you'd swear he was your-"

Aimee cut him off, her voice now a threatening growl. "Say it and I will come over there and smash your head against the mirror."

The two scowled into each others' eyes; a true sight to behold. A nineteen year old British girl and a three-foot-six, purple-and-white skinned child-like thing. Impmon put his hands up, backed down, and reached over by the stereo, picking up an old Motorola. He threw it over to Aimee, who wasn't exactly ready. She reached out for it, fumbled a little, and just managed to hang onto it by the aerial. She turned back to Impmon and shot him daggers, flipping it open. Impmon slipped past his partner, and out into the corridor, picking up some speed, but not before shouting back.

"Yeah, Aimee, your boyfriend rang!" Impmon cackled madly and sprinted down the hall. Aimee, phone in hand, sprinted out and after him, sticking true to her promise.

"Come back here, you dick!"

"I prefer the term 'Digimon'!"

* * *

Chester shook his head, and hung up, running his hands through his short, brown hair, before pulling it out, shaking it around, and locking the phone. He slipped it into his pocket, and sighed, taking a seat, and looking around. He was sitting on a stool, at the shooting range of his family's luxurious estate, a .22 rifle cradled in his hands. Maybe a hundred metres down the range was a paper printed target, with five shots all within an inch of each other around the bullseye.

Chester had won a few shooting trophies under his father's recommendation, but it never really meant anything to him. I mean, should it, when his father was hardly there, to sit down and reminisce about the good days? Should it, when he was always off, having an affair with different woman each week? The only real achievements to Chester were the fields he'd succeeded in trying to impress his uncle; the **real **father figure in Chester's life. He sighed, and loaded five fresh rounds into the magazine, slamming it into the rifle, and pulling the bolt back, grunting, and pushing it forward.

The rifle, Chester knew most about. It was a Winchester Sporting Model 52, and his uncle had bought it fifteen or so years before Chester was even conceived. It had stopped coming into production, around thirty years ago. It was known as the 'King of all .22 rifles', and Chester sincerely agreed with that. He considered himself 'a decent shot' with it, and shooting was one of the pasttimes he enjoyed most, mainly because his uncle had brought him into it, and even now, ten years on, Chester was still trying to impress him.

Chester aimed down the iron sight. He took a deep breath, holding it in, and tried to align it as perfectly as possible. He kept the breath in, still, readying his shot. His finger tightened on the trigger... he got ready to fire, and-

"Chester?" He sighed, and gently laid the rifle down against the nearby pillar. He turned to the source of the voice; a small, black fox. It stood on four legs, and protruding from the end of its spine was a stubby tail. Two iridescent orange irises spiralled around two big black pupils, Two pricked ears. A mouth filled with a row of vividly bright white teeth, all filing into a point. Volpemon. Chester's digital cohort.

Chester grinned and looked down to his partner, seeing him rolling a can of Sprite along the floor with his paw. Chester raised an eyebrow.

"You rolled that all the way from the bar to here without getting seen by any of the help?" Chester was a little bemused. He'd managed to hide Volpemon pretty effectively from most of the maids, who were hired, mid-twenties, European, and all surprisingly dumb. Chester wouldn't have been surprised if they were there for his father's 'amusement', too. One young Hungarian maid had stumbled upon Chester and Volpemon in the estate's bar, fishing through for something to drink, but Chester had managed to pass him off as a 'big black dog'. Upon further inquiry, he just replied with some amusing facts about how the dog was called a 'Siberian Duskhound', and was extremely docile unless its food was touched. Chester had also managed to get Volpemon to make some not-so-convincing barks, but he managed to get out of there before she asked anything else.

"Yeah. It's past five, anyway, most of them are gone." Chester reached down and picked up the can, quickly snatching it from the fox's reach. "Hey, remember our agreement! Half each!" Chester nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it..." Chester sighed and sat back as far as he could on the stool, relaxing as much as possible in the mid-July heat. "I'll drink it in a sec... let me take the shot you so rudely interrupted." Chester looked down at Volpemon, furrowing his brow ever so slightly. Volpemon flushed a little and stammered.

"Y-yeah, uh, sorry about that, you did tell me not to i-interrupt you."

"No worries, no worries..." Chester sighed and aimed back down the sights. He got ready to fire again, taking a deep breath, finger on the trigger, when a voice echoed throughout the otherwise empty range.

"Hey, Chester?"

"What is it, Volpemon?" Chester snapped, still aiming down the range.

"Sor-ry." Volpemon tutted and followed through with the rest of his question. "Maybe later, can I have a turn shooting that thing?"

Chester put the gun down, and turned back to Volpemon, his eyes wide, and his face a bright red pallor. This fox had been nothing but trouble the last two weeks. Turning up here, dogging at his heels, then revealing it could speak? Chester could've put it in with animal control, but no, the animal-thing had constantly gone on to Chester, complaining that he was 'needed' and that some 'digital world' was in a state of terror, although, whenever Chester asked about it, he was told to wait. Chester would suffer no end of torment trying to hide it when Donnie returned. He was smarter than the hired help, at least. And now, it calls one of his most prized possessions a trivial 'thing'? The arrogance. The ignorance! The audacity.

"This, Volpemon, is no **thing**. It is a Winchester Sporting Model 52, chambered in point-two-two long rifle. It's been called the king of sporting rifles, and is certainly one of my most sentimentally valued objects. Do not refer to it in that sense." Chester snapped, and picked up the rifle again, aiming down the sights, and waiting for a reply.

"...can I still have a turn, anyway?" Chester rolled his eyes.

"No." In the short silence that followed, the youth took aim, inhaled, and tightened his finger on the trigger, as he had done twice before. This time, he moved the stock into his shoulder, and pushed his digit all the way. A shot rang out, and the barrel of the gun jerked back into his collarbone. Expected.

As he fired, Volpemon had immediately, instinctively, pushed his head to the ground and placed his paws over his ears as best he can. He looked up to Chester and put on a disgruntled face.

"Talk about a face like a slapped arse, Volpemon." Chester chuckled to himself, laying the rifle down against the pillar once again. "You still want a go?" He picked up the can, holding, and waiting for a response.

"Yep." Volpemon beamed up at his partner, grinning like the idiot he was.

"Well, you're not getting one." Chester smiled back at him, sitting back and letting the brilliant July sunshine take effect once again.

"Why?" Volpemon's beam was shattered, and his face immediately formed into an ugly scowl that resembled a Chinese Pug.

"I've got something you don't have, and you need to fire a gun properly." Chester smiled broadly, and picked up the rifle again, holding it in his other hand.

"And what's that?" Volpemon snarled.

"Opposable thumbs." Chester broke into a low chortle. "You're outta luck, mate." Volpemon stared at the ground again, as Chester put the can down once again. He held the bolt, and concentrating, pulled it back, and pushed it forwards, making a distinct sound. He propped it up against the pillar a third time, and finally, picked up the can, ready to drink. He held it up in the air, as if to say cheers, and Volpemon inclined his head in response.

Chester flipped the tab, and, immediately, the lemon-and-lime soda, and the foamy head it had created, spewed out in every possible direction. By the time Chester had moved his mouth to put it over the opening, his black Avenged Sevenfold tour shirt was soaked in the sticky liquid. He glared down at Volpemon, who was on his back, cackling madly, before sipping the last of the residual solution of saliva and Sprite off of the tip of the can. He downed the last of it, before flinging the can down the range, too, and standing up, wringing out the liquid and watching gush out towards the floor.

"You're lucky you're the reason I met Aimee."


	3. Episode Two

**Episode Two: Bedlam**

Chester scanned around the abandoned park, before turning, and looking down to Volpemon, sighing. "Of all the places... why here?" He gestured over to the park's 'main attraction', a chain swing that had rusted, looked as if it would snap at the slightest hint of any pressure whatsoever; a roundabout, upon which most of the handles had weakened and snapped off, leaving jagged spear-like prongs pointing up and out, as if they would spring out and attack at any possible moment; and the fact that it looked as if nobody had even laid eyes upon it for a year. "It's not exactly the easiest place on the eyes."

"Yeah, but it's probably the safest." Volpemon tutted. "You forget that if someone - well, someone with any brains - saw me, or heard me talking, we'd pretty much be screwed." He looked down the alley they were standing in, from right to left, giving both ends the once-over. "Still nothing." Chester rolled his eyes, starting one of his own little rants.

"Just like Aimee. She calls up, gives me a date and a time, and ends up being-"

"What's that about me?" Chester spun, and turned to see Aimee; she looked fairly different to how she normally did. A pair of seemingly wrecked blue denim jeans, a thin grey jacket over a mellow pink tank top. Instead of sprawling down her back, free and wild, her dirty blonde hair was tied back into a neat pony-tail. She was wearing a fairly basic pair of sandals, and there were a pair of thin, cheap sunglasses tucked into the top of her top. And, typical of her, she was standing there, hand on her hip, having just interrupted Chester.

For the first few moments, he was stunned. This was the first time in the two weeks she'd appeared wearing a different style of outfit; and oh-so-different this was. Instead of looking like the nineteen-year old girl she was, she looked like a... well, tomboy. Impmon emerged from the shadows, just behind her, carefully eyeing both of them, and waiting for an opportune time to interject. Chester snapped out of it, and nodded his head, trying to change the subject. "A-Aimee. You... look... uhh... different?" He posed the statement, not meaning to end it sounding like a question. She rolled her eyes.

"Just ignore what I was saying. Anything happen since we last met up?" Chester shook his head.

"Nope. I've tried to be more careful with Volpemon; keeping him as well hidden in view as possible." That was when the little black fox cut in.

"Well, that's a complete, bare-faced lie." Both of the teenagers spun to the canine Digimon, waiting for him to expand further. "Chester's had me running errands non-stop these past few days-"

"Might I remind you of an incident involving a can of Sprite and a deal we had? That's the ONLY thing I asked, and in return, it ended up spraying all over my-"

"GUYS." Aimee interjected sternly, and the two bickering partners turned to face her. "Try not to rip into each other too much, okay?" Chester nodded, flushing ever so slightly, and Volpemon pouted, looking down at the ground. To this, Impmon rose an eyebrow, and chuckled. Aimee rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Schadenfreude. One of Impmon's stronger points..." She muttered. "Let's not forget the reason we're here, right?" She stifled a grin, and tried not to look at Chester too much. The tables had been turned. The petty battle that had moments ago pitted two partners against their opposites now turned into humans versus Digimon.

Impmon caught on first, and put up his red-gloved hands. "No." He chuckled, slowly shaking his head. "No, no, no, no, no, and no."

"Come on, Impmon, we've put up with it for-" Aimee tried to plead, but Impmon wasn't having any of it, and cut her off, mid-sentence.

"No. We made a deal. There are two other humans out there, and two other Digimon, waiting for us. Until then, we don't reveal why we're here." Impmon shook his head, and Aimee sighed, turning to Chester.

"We could always beat it out of him?"

"I'm up for that." As if in immediate response to Chester's reply, the atmosphere got a lot warmer. He turned to the source of the heat, and, surprise, surprise, Impmon was standing there, his hand pointing out, glowing.

The thing which struck Chester as strange, though, was the fact that, wrapped around Impmon's fingers, were tiny little wreathes of bright orange fire. In the end, they all formed together in his hand, to form a fireball, maybe slightly larger than Chester's clenched fist. Aimee snapped out at Impmon.

"Impmon, you idiot, he doesn't know!" Chester, who was still stunned, pointed as Impmon as the purple-skinned child-like being cut off the energy supply to the fireball, cutting it off, gone as quickly as it appeared.

"He... he..." Chester swallowed, still stuttering. "How?" Aimee sighed.

"Well.. I found out that, apparently, this place Impmon comes from, the Digital World," Upon Aimee saying this, Volpemon immediately shot Impmon daggers, and mouthed some form of insult to his intelligence. "every Digimon can do stuff like that."

"So... you mean..." Chester pointed at Volpemon.

Aimee nodded. "I think so."

"Now, let's hold on here. I'd like to let you know, I'm **not **here for your personal entertainment. I'm here for a reason, and I'm not going to perform on a whim for you." Volpemon sighed. "So long as that's clear, we're cool." Chester nodded, slowly.

"So what does this all mean, Aimee?" Chester exhaled, his heart still pounding in his mouth after Impmon's little pyrotechnic show. "There's got to be-"

And that was when Chester turned, and saw something he hadn't seen at all, these past two weeks. Volpemon, was standing there, aiming down the east side of the alleyway, growling. Impmon rolled his eyes.

"Shit." He sprung up another fireball, and Chester shuffled slightly, uneasy. "I really hoped this wasn't going to happen until we explained." Before Chester could interject, Impmon adopted an aggressive stance, aiming down the alleyway, too. Volpemon growled out a few sentences at his fellow Digimon.

"I told you we shouldn't have kept meeting like this." He pawed the ground, creating a scratching sound, as if to draw something out, to attract it. A taunt. "They're attracted to large digital signatures."

"Wh-what are?" Aimee muttered weakly. Chester's face was drained of all colour, more shocked and afraid than Aimee, and he just sat there, immobile, his deep breathing the only audible sound coming from his body, aside from his rapidly beating heart. Something was around that corner, and it wasn't right.

Impmon turned to Aimee and held up his hand. "No. Stay around the corner. This is going to be dangerous." Aimee nodded, but soon after, shook herself out of it, and flew into a swift retaliation.

"Impmon, you said we were partners. Partners fight, right?"

"She's got a point, Impmon." Volpemon murmured under his breath.

"Be quiet! She hasn't got the D-Nexus yet-" Impmon barked.

Now it was Chester's turn to interject. "D-Nexus?" Volpemon sighed.

"This is getting far too compl-" Volpemon's explanation was cut off by a low growling. There was silence between the four of them, and Volpemon and Impmon edged back. The growling stopped, and, suddenly, the only thing that could be heard was slow, haggard breathing. Fog crept around the corner, and swirled around Aimee and Chester's feet. Every now and then, a stray spark of blue electricity would flash, and carry through the fog, circulating through maybe three or so feet of it. Before long, the entire alley was filled with the white mist, the breathing still there.

Chester opened his mouth to mutter something, but Aimee quickly held her hand over his mouth. He nodded, and she raised a finger to his lips, before watching the two Digimon. She inched ever so slightly closer to Chester, who removed his hands from his pockets, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath, trying to ready himself for anything.

And then, it happened.

"Icicle Fist!" The voice bellowed. A creature leapt down the hallway, slamming what Chester presumed to be its fist into Impmon and pushing him back out of the view of the small opening from the alley. Volpemon was pushed back by the force, and slid along the floor, towards Chester. Aimee squealed and clutched onto Chester instinctively, before coming back to her senses, flushing, and pulling off. Chester felt the adrenaline pumping around his body, getting ready for fight or flight. He crouched down to Volpemon.

"What the _fuck _is that thing?" Volpemon groaned, and got back up onto his feet, muttering back to his partner.

"Hielomon... big icy brute. Usually it's more trivial than anything else, but this bastard looks like he's been absorbing some serious amounts of data." He fired off, quickly checking for any wounds, before turning to Chester.

"So, what the hell do we do?" He hissed.

"We fight it."

Chester paused.

"What?"

"Well, Impmon and me do the fighting. You, typically, hold some sort of power that's useful to- you know what, let's talk about this later. First, we've got this bastard to take care of-"

"Badda-BOOM!" The voice came from down the tunnel, and it was Impmon. Chester stared in awe as an explosion sounded throughout the alley. Aimee stuck her fingers in her ears, squealing again, and closed her eyes to the spectacle that was a massive Digimon being flung through an alleyway. Impmon emerged from the other side, dusting his hands as if he'd just finished some trivial task. He chuckled, and stared down to the beast that lay on the floor.

It was maybe six foot... six? Seven? Either way, it was bigger than Chester, and a hell of a lot bigger than Volpemon and Impmon. It was covered in light blue fur, and had two big, black eyes; no iris, no sclera, just big, black orbs. It had an almost comical mouth, with two massive canines jutting out over its bottom lip. It was breathing through an almost pig-like button nose, its breath turning into mist in the suddenly chilling environment. It had stubby legs, and long, gangly arms, with four clawed fingers at the end, all topped with the same white-blue hair. The majority of the fur on its stomach had been singed by whatever Impmon had done, as well as a lot on its left forearm. Needless to say, it was an ugly bugger.

"Out cold, I reckon." Impmon went over his last sentence, and chuckled. "I think we should wake this ugly arse up, and give him a taste of his own medicine." Volpemon chuckled, and in a single pounce, landed on Hielomon's slowly rising and falling chest.

"It would serve him right for bio-emerging."

Aimee, who had apparently recovered, turned to Chester, and stared quizzically, mouthing the word 'bio-emerging'. Chester shrugged, and turned back to the display in front of him. Volpemon laughed sadistically, and raised a paw, before triggering some sort of function that made a pointed claw emerge from the tip of each of the four digits.

The distinct sliding sound somehow brought Hielomon around, and the Digimon got up to a start, roaring, and springing Volpemon off of its chest in a single movement. The fox Digimon flew fifty or so metres away, before Impmon realised what was happening. The Digimon turned around, and sprinted back towards, presumably, the source of where it had come from. Volpemon pulled himself to his feet, sighing.

"I really should have seen that coming..." He muttered.

"Volpemon?" Impmon was pointing at the brute running into the centre of the fog.

"Fiiine." Volpemon rolled his eyes, and broke, right from the start, into a sprint. He would've beaten Hielomon by a mile at that pace, but stopped just before, and leapt, latching his jaws onto what appeared to be the monster's Achilles heel. It fell so Chester and Aimee could just see Volpemon mercilessly ripping into the tendon, and in a few more bites, snapping it. Hielomon howled in agony as a steaming blue liquid sprayed out. Volpemon moved back slightly, and the gorrilla-like animal banged its fists against the alleyway floor in pain. The fox spat out what it had chewed off, and Chester grimaced. He wasn't really used to seeing gore like this first-hand; Aimee was already covering her eyes, and had turned away.

"Infernal Funnel!" Impmon exclaimed, holding his hands out, palms facing the ground. Two rings of fire came up from, seemingly, the ground itself, a fireball twice the size of Chester's head being formed, hovering above the orange inferno. Impmon placed his hands out, as if to hold the fireball, and to Chester's astonishment, when he moved his hands, the flaming mass moved with them! Forgetting where he was for a second, Chester's heart skipped a few beats watching this incredible digital wonder unfold right in front of him.

He concentrated back on the scene in front of him; Impmon tried to expand the ball as far as he could within his arms' reach, before taking aim at the fallen, writhing Hielomon. Cautiously, Volpemon took a couple of steps back.

Impmon flicked his wrists, and the inferno flew towards the blue-furred being at a speed that would rival most successful professional baseball pitchers' throws. The ball of fire hit the Digimon, and, Aimee clamped her hands over her ears. Chester watched in awe as Hielomon burnt, time and time again, inside the inferno. Before long, Impmon clapped his hands together, and the rings of fire died out, as did the inferno surrounding the now-charred Digimon corpse.

Chester presumed the Digimon would just leave it, and return, but, then, something even stranger happened. The corpse... evaporated. Into the same fog that had once surrounded it. It was a strange thought; Hielomon had formed into that which had brought it into this world. Then, just as strange, Volpemon and Impmon stood side-by-side as the fog slowly moved towards them... and it seemed as if they absorbed it...

Taking in the fog seemed to completely rejuvenate them, and after they were done, they turned and walked back over to their partners, both hanging their heads in guilt. Chester gave Aimee a couple of reassuring pats on the back, and she returned to full height, glowering at Volpemon and Impmon, her face still a bright red. Chester was the first to break the silence as light and heat seemed to return to the alleyway.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do."


	4. Episode Three

**Episode Three: True Calling**

After the battle, the four walked back to Aimee's single-bedroom apartment; it was certainly closer through the twisting London alleyways than Chester's estate, but, still, a big change for Chester, who was used to dozens of rooms and metres of space to himself at one time.

Aimee, who the adrenaline obviously hadn't had the same effect on, sat down, wrapped herself in a blanket, and sat opposite Impmon and Volpemon whilst Chester made three mugs and a bowlful of hot chocolate. He set them down on the glass coffee table inside the cramped dining room, before sliding in beside Aimee and gesturing to the Digimon.

"Alright. You should probably start at the beginning."

Impmon sighed. "Look, Chester, it really is a long-" Aimee stopped him, this time.

"Impmon, I think if more stuff like this is going to go on, we really should know the details about it."

"You wouldn't understand why we can't, Aimee..." Impmon sighed. He turned to his fellow Digimon. "You want to, or should I?" Volpemon took a break from lapping up the steaming chocolatey liquid, gulping the remainder of his mouthful down, and issuing a quick response, before promptly returning to the bowl.

"You do it. This stuff is... good." Impmon rolled his eyes.

"How do I explain this... ah." He reached out for Aimee's mug, held up a finger when she appeared angry, and dragged it across so it was opposite his own. "Alright..." Impmon sighed. "If we think, for a moment, that my mug represents this world." He looked up at Chester and Aimee. "More specifically, your world." He moved his fingers over to Aimee's mug. "And this is our world. The Digital World. Our home."

Chester and Aimee nodded, slowly, getting the picture, and silently urging him to go on. He motioned between the two mugs, back and forth, with a single gloved finger. "There's a connection between our worlds called the Bifrost Bridge, after some archaic mythology. It's usually a one-way transport, data from your internet gets transferred to our world, and every file makes it bigger and bigger. Usually, we can't cross, because of the four Guardians... but... uh..."

Volpemon interrupted.

"That's us." Chester cocked his head slightly.

"You... let me get this straight. You guard, ultimately, the only link between our world and the internet?" Volpemon nodded, chuckling.

"Big responsibility, eh?" He grinned. "Am I cooler now?" Chester turned back to Impmon.

"Could you continue without inflating his ego?" Volpemon broke out into a full-scale laugh, before shaking his head a few times and returning to his hot chocolate.

"Anyway..." Impmon shot the fox digimon a nasty look before continuing. "The big daddy of... well... everything inside the Digital World, is a core. An AI core, called Yggdrasil. It governs everything and anything that passes through the bridge."

"Hang on," Aimee interjected. "I thought you said **you **guarded the bridge." Impmon shook his head.

"Nope. We only made sure nothing got **out**. Stuff getting in was the head honcho's problem." Impmon sighed. "There was a group of thirteen knights that guarded Yggdrasil, but, one, Gallantmon, went crazy, attacked the core, and took a load of friends with him. Something fried inside the core, and its ability to make good judgment as impaired. The remainder of the knights got kicked out, and they then split into two groups; those still loyal to Yggdrasil, and the ones who travelled around, and tried to get stronger, so that they could one day liberate the core, and try and fix it."

"Keeping in mind this thing has an army maybe two-thousand Champions strong." Volpemon added in, again, getting a dirty look from his Digital cohort.

"Champions?" Chester queried.

"You still have a lot to explain, you realise, Impmon." Volpemon chuckled, and sat intently.

"A Champion is a level of Digital strength. We're Rookies. But... we'll get onto that later. Basically, Yggdrasil released a nasty virus, which made, we reckon, about eighty to ninety percent of the population that wasn't inside its hub rabid, like that Hielomon you saw an hour or so ago."

"And that, guys, is the real reason why we're here. To save the Digital and Human worlds." Aimee and Chester were distinctly confused by this, and it showed in their expressions. Chester posed a question.

"Alright... how the hell is staying in our world going to help you in yours?"

"Digimon weaken significantly when we cross," Impmon explained. "and, so, we can defeat them and absorb their data, that fog. Once we've defeated enough, and become strong enough, we hope to draw Gallantmon here, ambush him, and find a way to heal Yggdrasil." He puffed his chest out boldly and smiled.

Aimee and Chester were stunned. _That _was his great plan?

"W-what?" Aimee was the first to speak. "Are you mad or something?"

Impmon was genuinely confused. "Huh?"

"So, you draw him here. What then? What if he's too strong? What if he brings the rest of his team with him? And what then? You think this... Yggdragil-"

"Yggdrasil." Volpemon interrupted again, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever! You think he's just going to let you back in?" Aimee raised her voice and got up out of her seat. Chester laid a hand on her arm, but without looking at him, she moved out of his grasp. Impmon rose too.

"He doesn't have to! We have you."

"What difference does that make?" Aimee glowered at Impmon, and he returned the glare.

"All the difference, maybe?" Impmon locked gazes with Aimee, and the two stood there for some time, staring at each other. Volpemon rolled his eyes, and sighed at Chester, who just watched the two. Eventually, Impmon sat down and put his head in his hands. He turned to Volpemon, and sighed.

"Should we?"

"Should you what?" Aimee quickly snapped in retaliation. Impmon sighed again, and stared at Aimee, not answering her, but making it evident it wasn't her discussion. He turned back to Volpemon and repeated the question. He nodded.

"You didn't answer my question, Impmon. What difference does it make that we're here?" Impmon grinned. He and Volpemon closed their eyes very briefly, the room filling with a low thrum, almost indistinguishable. Chester could swear he felt himself become ever so slightly heavier. He patted down his jacket pockets quickly, before looking back up at Impmon, then to Volpemon, who was grinning, and finally Aimee.

"Did... did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"...never mind." He turned to Impmon, starting to pose a question, but he was cut off almost immediately by a slow nodding.

Volpemon grinned, before uttering two words. "Back pocket." Chester slowly moved his hands down to the seat of his jeans, before feeling around slightly, and drawing out something that looked like vaguely like a bright white mobile phone. There was a small, square, and currently blank screen covering the top half, surrounded by a blue plastic circle. Below it was a power button, four directional buttons, and inside them, an 'OK' button. It looked as if it was an MP3 player. Chester stared up at Volpemon, then back down at the device, flipping it over, and running his hands over the engraved words on the back. 'D-Nexus'. He mouthed it to himself, before repeating it in a low mutter. He exchanged glances with Aimee, who seemed to be just as stunned as him. That had happened a lot in the last few weeks. He looked up at Volpemon and Impmon, and before he could even ask, the sarcastic Digimon replied.

"D-Nexus. It's automatically bonded to Volpemon. Using the data he obtains from fallen Digimon, he can use their attacks. As well as that, it doubles as a passport, and a storage system... albeit a rather cramped storage system at later digivolution levels..." Chester mustered up the will to speak.

"Wait, you're... you're going to fast. He can use other Digimon's attacks? A passport for what? Digivolution?" Impmon gestured at Volpemon, who had finished his hot chocolate, and started sipping from his own mug.

"His turn to explain."

Volpemon growled slightly at Impmon, frightening Chester slightly, before moving into speech, turning to his partner.

"You saw how Hielomon used that attack, Icicle Fist?" Chester nodded. "Well, now, Impmon can use it, seeing as he delivered the killing blow. I still absorbed some of Hielomon's data, but Impmon absorbed the majority, so he'll be able to use Icicle Fist whenever Aimee selects it from her D-Nexus." Chester turned to Aimee, seeing that she was now pressing buttons avidly on her own copy of the white device, this one with a mauve ring, instead of Chester's light blue one.

Chester pondered how Impmon, much smaller than the Hielomon had been, would use an incredibly powerful leap like that punch had been, then he remembered how Impmon had killed the brute with his incredible pyrotechnic display. Volpemon continued.

"The data I absorbed, and the rest of the data that Impmon did, too, helps me Digivolve." Before Chester could ask anything, Volpemon started explaining again. "After I absorb enough data, I'll change into a form. Bigger. Stronger. More powerful. And a lot more cool." Volpemon grinned. Chester nodded, soaking this all in like a big fleshy sponge. Aimee still had one unanswered question.

"Wait... you said it was a passport, too, right?" Impmon answered her partner this time.

"Yeah." The Digimon grinned. "You're our safe ticket into the Digital World."


	5. Episode Four

**Episode Four: Stalwart**

Twenty five whole days had passed since Impmon and Volpemon had explained as much as they could to Chester and Aimee. The two humans and their partners now stood, facing the woods just north of Chester's estate. Aimee was wearing pretty much the same outfit she had worn when Hielomon attacked; low profile, trying not to attract any attention to herself. She pulled up her jacket sleeve and checked the watch on her arm.

"Seven fifty-five." She turned to Chester, rolling the sleeve back down. The sun hadn't set yet, but there was still a distinct orange tint on the horizon. "Are you sure this is right?" Aimee was still a little nervous. This was their third encounter since Hielomon, the two previously treated as training, somewhat. Chester gestured to Volpemon and Impmon, who were both staring intently into the woods.

"Well, they aren't usually wrong. Plus... does that fog look normal to you?" Chester murmured, trying not to have Impmon interject sarcastically like he normally would. Unfortunately, his plan failed somewhat.

"Oh, yeah. What with it being so thick and all, especially on a summer night." Impmon rolled his eyes. "You never were the sharpest tool in the set, were you, Chester?" Chester didn't answer, and simply waited for Aimee to nod, before turning back.

"Shouldn't we... like... go in... or something?" Chester saw the fog getting thicker and thicker, moving over more distance with every second. It was Volpemon who answered this time.

"No. We don't want to end up being trapped and split up in a forest at night, with two bloodthirsty Digimon after us." Impmon countered right afterwards.

"If we leave them in there too long, they'll absorb all of the fog, we'll have no way of tracking them, and they'll be a hell of a lot stronger." Impmon made two distinct sniffs. "I count two by my mark."

Volpemon nodded. "Yeah... there are two... still, though, I don't think going in there's a good idea." Chester gave Aimee an awkward look, and she sighed, before talking down sternly to the two Digimon.

"Can you two make up your damn minds already?" Silence for a few moments. Volpemon shrugged (or, did whatever could be interpreted as a shrug from a sentient black fox), and nodded. Impmon turned to Aimee.

"We'll go in, and split up. Although there are two, and we reckon they're both more powerful than the ones we've fought before-"

"What?" Aimee interjected. "That Phalamon nearly made you into a shish kebab, Impmon!" Chester nodded.

"You too, Volpemon." The fox raised a paw, and offered a sentence along with it.

"Look, we'll be fine! I've got Phalamon's data, Impmon has Hielomon and Tapirmon's. Activate them if it looks like things are going tough, and I promise you it'll be **fine**." Volpemon chuckled. "If not a warm-up." Chester sighed, calmed down, and nodded twice, turning to Aimee and smiling at her.

"You ready for this, Aimee?"

She chuckled, and replied with a grin. "When wouldn't I be?" With that, the four converged on the mist, cautiously, and very slowly.

The epicentre of the fog was about two hundred metres from where they entered. It was thick and refused to spread, no matter how hard Chester and Aimee tried to seperate it by waving their hands. Volpemon and Impmon didn't seem to care though, moving on through it, as if unfazed. However, upon reaching the other side, the Digimon were nowhere to be seen.

The fog seemed to lead off in two trails; one, thin, and almost elongated, and another from what Chester presumed was a biped, possibly about his size. Impmon crouched by the first trail, the thinner one, and took another sniff, a few wisps of the mist swirling into his mouth. He moved back almost immediately, and turned to Chester.

"Pythomon. Big, nasty snake." He muttered, very simply, before observing the other trail. "...and, over here, we have Sanguimon... greeeaat." Impmon rolled his eyes.

"Sanguimon?" Aimee asked meekly.

"The kind of Digimon that crashes a party and then kills everybody there. Takes some sort of sick satisfaction from ending other Digimons' lives, other than the necessity of data." Aimee sighed.

"Yeah, well that's all well and good, but _what does it look like_?" Impmon snapped back quickly.

"Big. Walks on two feet. Ugly. Really ugly. Hard to explain how it looks, but it's not nice. Oh, and it can fly, although I'm betting it's lost that temporarily due to the crossing." Volpemon nodded and popped in with a comment of his own.

"It usually teams up with Pythomon, anyway... this is probably an attempt to split Impmon and me up."

"No way. We take them down together, right?" Chester was stunned that the Digimon would even **consider **splitting up. Not only was it a bad choice in horror movies, but these things sounded powerful. Volpemon groaned and shook his head.

"If Sanguimon started flying again, he'd go on a sick rampage before being found, and, even then, our cover'd be blown too." Volpemon sighed. "Pythomon too. We can't risk it." Impmon nodded.

"Volpemon's right. You take Sanguimon, we'll get on Pythomon's trail."

Aimee groaned and followed her partner as he walked off along the mist trail. Before long, they were just a speck in the quickly darkening forest. Volpemon prowled off after Sanguimon, and by the time Chester had noticed, he was already twenty or so metres away.

* * *

_Thud._ Impmon smacked against the trunk of the tree, somewhat luckily. If he hadn't, Pythomon's throw probably would have tossed him further into the black forest. Aimee stumbled back, slowing her breathing and making no noise whatsoever. Pythomon turned towards her. It was maybe ten or eleven feet long, and the end of its tail split into two. Black scales, with a grey-white underbelly. Two big, red eyes, and strange, seemingly organic, scaled blades on the side of its mouth; whenever it hissed or clamped its teeth down, they moved inwards, as if they were a second, horizontal pair of teeth. Impmon also hadn't mentioned that it could toss him aside like a pebble.

She kept on moving backwards, trying not to let her boots crunch on anything, moving her vision between the snake monster, and the floor, trying to navigate her way around. It turned away for a second and sniffed the air. Aimee let out a small, almost undetectable sigh, and turned, taking another step.

However, she wasn't expecting there to be a tree stump right in front of her. Her boot caught it full-on. Aimee Foster tripped, and fell, her shoulder slamming against the bed of dirt and twigs covering the ground. She let out a small squeal, and her heart sank immediately as she heard Pythomon twist towards her.

"Shit..." She muttered.

* * *

Sanguimon had moved incredibly fast; Chester and Volpemon had been sprinting through the forests, following the mist trail as it twisted and turned, like a mad slalom around the tree trunks. Between pants, Volpemon explained that Sanguimon had good tracking skills, meaning it had probably either heard or sensed them coming, and sped up as fast as it could trying to lose them. The mist trail was thinning, too.

"Vol-volpemon..." Chester panted, swerving around the thick trunk of a particularly large oak. "H-have we lost him?" Volpemon let out two chuckles, only seperated by a massive intake of air.

"No... bastard's scent's getting stronger. He's just absorbed m-most of the fog." Chester nodded, swallowed, and the two continued running through the woods. Before long, the trees started to thin out... Chester had been here before, just beyond the wood. As they emerged into the moonlight, he chuckled, remembering those brilliant childhood days camping out here with Donnie.

Volpemon slowed down.

"What the hell, Chester?" He growled.

"Fie... fields." Chester put his hands on his knees, and wiped the beads of sweat from his head. "Forgot... about them." He swallowed, and stood up, taking in lungfuls of the fresh, clear air. Chester added two and two together.

"Hang on... where is he, Volpemon?"

"I don't know... goddamnit, this is where the fog ends..."

"Do you think we've lost him?"

"No... the scent is stronger than ever." Volpemon sniffed the air. "He's here... somewhere."

"Yes. He is." A deep, booming voice echoed out from above the duo. They looked up, ruffling the long grass with the sudden movement, and saw it. Hovering underneath the moonlight was a horrific creature.

It was as if rotten flesh, torn skin, and snapped bone had all been formed together in a strange human likeness. Maybe six foot tall, it had a few inches on Chester. A lizard-like snout protruded from its face, giving it a distinct bipedal reptilian look, like some mutant. With every beat of its heart, blood pulsed underneath a soft membrane, giving what would be pale white skin a bright red tinge, constantly. Two bright orange reptilian eyes, with slit-like pupils, sat either side of the snout.

But the worst were the wings. Protruding outwards from its shoulderblades were the basic bone structures of a pair of wings, with tattered skin and membrane attached. In the soft evening breeze, the skin made a sick, echoing flapping sound. A truly disgusting monster. Chester could now see why it was called Sanguimon.

It flapped its wings, and lowered down, ever so slowly. Chester and Volpemon followed it with every slight descent, until it touched down on the floor, raising its scarred, torn snout, staring down it at the two of them.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

* * *

The massive snake slithered through the leaves and dirt faster than Aimee had ever seen any reptile go before. It cackled, something sick between a laugh and a hiss, its mandible-blades clicking together all the while. It reared up in the air and hissed up at the moonlight. Aimee, seeing her chance, moved back, and made a desperate kick at its underside whilst it did. Before the print of her boot even got close, she felt one of Pythomon's two tendrils wrap around her leg and stop-her mid-kick. She screamed, splitting the silence, as the snake digimon flicked her aside with his tail, sliding her through the dirt, until she struck the base of a birch tree. It cackled again, and moved up towards her. Aimee felt a tear trickle down her face as she pulled her legs in tight, closing her face against her kneecaps and just waiting for it to end, one way or another.

A hoarse voice cut over her sobs, ready to attack. "Heheh... Shadow Wh-"

"I don't think so, you bastard. Badda-BOOM!" The all-too-welcome voice cut off the snake, causing it to twist in the direction that the sound was coming from. Unfortunately, the only thing it saw was a fiery mass flying towards it. It shrieked, the blades clicking madly, and the fireball made contact, flinging the snake through the forest, length-ways. Before long, it made contact with three diffferent trees in three different places, falling to the floor with a pained moan.

All the while, Aimee had been staring at her saviour, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Impmon was standing there, a fireball in each hand, smirking at the fallen Digimon. Aimee scrabbled in the dirt, pulling herself up to her full height. She sprinted over to Impmon, and pulled him in for an unexpected embrace as he shut off the supply of energy to the fireballs. As the hug broke, Impmon started with a snarky comment, but never got far, due to, well, Aimee slapping him around the face.

"Never. Again." She barked sternly, before half-chuckling and half-sobbing, wiping the tears away from her eyes. Impmon smiled at first, rubbing his cheek, before something caught his attention.

"Aimee.." He muttered. Another series of groans were filling the area. "Move back and grab your D-Nexus." Impmon sprung up another two fireballs. "Find Hielomon, and select it." Aimee nodded, not wanting or bothering to look behind her. Impmon hissed back at her. "Go!"

She moved back, maybe sixty feet, not wanting to peek up at the cacophony of grunts and explosions in front of her. Aimee fumbled in her pockets, quickly finding the D-Nexus; her front jacket pocket was where she always kept it, but in the heat of the moment she'd forgotten and panicked.

The noises were getting more and more intense by the seconds. If Aimee had enough hands to clamp over her ears as well, she would have done, but simply staring at the device was all she could do. She switched it on, and, immediately, in front of her was a list of commands. 'Isolate', 'Checkup', and 'Digimon'. She sniffed, wiped her nose with her sleeve - it was already caked in dirt, anyway - and before long, two profiles were loaded. Hielomon, and Tapirmon. She pressed the arrows down to Hielomon, and a smaller, 8-bit version of the brute popped up.

As the sprite came up, Aimee remembered how frightened she'd been that night, but almost immediately forced the memory out of her head, and pressed the centre button inwards, staring up at Impmon for the first time since he'd saved her from almost certain death.

* * *

"How come this guy can talk?" Chester hissed down at his partner, who was going to respond in kind. Instead, he was simply met with a reply from the monster itself.

"Oh, I can talk. I can think, hear, feel, assess... whatever it is you humans do. Although, I must say, now my strength is regained, I feel... good. I feel very good." Chester sighed. This Digimon was worse than anything he'd ever encountered before. Not because of its appearance, but simply because of the fact that it rambled. "It's a nice world you have here. Shame it won't be nice for much longer." Chester took up an offensive stance, and was ready to counter with a string of curses and almost disgusting names, but Volpemon stopped him.

"Enough!" The fox shouted, his voice echoing out underneath the starry effulgence. "Let's get this over with, eh, Sanguimon?" The demonic Digimon chuckled in response, flapping its wings, and hovering maybe another six feet off of the ground.

"I haven't heard a suggestion as good as that all day." It was then that the horror's left arm bulged; moreso than it usually did. Pulsating and undulating rapidly, much faster than its normal heartbeat. Then something happened. Something that Chester never desired or expected to see in his lifetime.

The fingers knitted together; skin, flesh, bone, and all. They twisted into a cone, and Sanguimon screamed in delight, absorbing the pain as if it was almost orgasmic. The flesh, skin, and membrane around what were Sanguimon's fingers all ruptured at once, from the end of the wrist upwards, blood spraying forwards in a crimson fountain. The horrific, disfigured bone point was jutting outwards. No longer did Sanguimon have a left hand, but, instead, a jagged, bone spearhead-like appendage. It screamed again as the blood flowed over it, staining it an iridiscent red.

But Sanguimon wasn't done there. The screams only amplified as the bone point elongated, flattened, and curved, like a round hook. Like... like an ancient bone sickle.

Chester overpowered his urge to retch bile all over the swaying meadow grass, turning to Volpemon and grinning. "You know what I think, Volpemon?"

"No, what do you think, Chester?"

"I think it's time we put this bastard in his place."

"Well, I agree." With that, Chester moved back, slipping his hand into his pocket, and pulling out his D-Nexus, ready to trigger another Digimon's data lying dormant inside Volpemon's code structure upon command.

Sanguimon wasted no more time in attacking, aiming at Volpemon with its bone sickle. It screamed out, whatever traces sanity it possessed before the transformation obviously gone, overcome by the pain.

"Shadow Sickle!" The bone sickle lined itself with a black coating - presumably the shadow in question - a constantly moving smog, the only thing stopping it from moving outwards into the air some strange attraction to the blade. Sanguimon slashed through the air, three times. Horizontal, vertical, horizontal; as it slashed, a third of the black fog followed, making three black shockwaves, all aimed downwards at Volpemon.

Luckily, the fox was more acrobatic that he looked, and as the last of the shadow seperated from the sickle, he somersaulted backwards over the first slash as it dissipated, and then following through to roll away from the vertical wave. Although the roll put him ever so slightly out of the last one's range, it didn't do enough, and the left end struck Volpemon, toppling him, and causing the Digimon to slide a fair few metres back. Chester, who had been watching all the time, moved his fingers down, ready to select Phalamon's data, but Volpemon stopped him with a grunt.

"No... I've got an idea." The fox readied himself, and hopped out of the imprint he'd left, snarling up at the hovering demon, ready to jump and strike whenever he saw a golden opportunity.


End file.
